The cycle of violence: tension, explosion and the honeymoon phase

“He isn’t always like that. The last three weeks he’s been wonderful.”

Friends, sisters and colleagues hear this sentence. It is often said by someone who, a few days earlier, was hiding a bruise or sweeping broken glass off the floor. And it isn’t a lie. The last three weeks may truly have been lovely — kind, tender, full of promises. That is precisely part of the pattern professionals call the cycle of violence: tension that builds, an explosion, and then a period of remorse we often call the honeymoon phase.

I need to say something clearly at the start. I am not a specialist in domestic violence — I am a therapist in training under supervision in marriage and family therapy. When violence comes up in therapy, my first task is safety and a route to the people who work with violence every day. This piece is not a test you can use to judge how dangerous your situation is. It is an attempt to give a name to a pattern many people live with. If you feel you are in danger right now, call 112 or the police on 113 (in Slovenia). For a conversation, the SOS helpline for women and children victims of violence, 080 11 55 (in Slovenia), is there for you.

Where the term “cycle of violence” comes from

At the end of the 1970s, the American psychologist Lenore Walker listened to the stories of women who lived with violent partners. In her book The Battered Woman (1979) she described something that kept recurring in their accounts: the violence was not spread evenly. It came in waves that had a recognisable shape. First tension built up, then came an explosion, and after it a period when the partner was remorseful, loving and full of promises.

The description stuck because it gave people words for something they had not been able to explain before — not even to themselves. Why do you stay with someone who hit you? Because the person you live with is not only the one who hits. He is also the one who cries the next day, brings you breakfast in bed and says he cannot lose you.

Violence in intimate relationships is not rare. The World Health Organization and colleagues gathered data from more than a hundred and sixty countries and estimated that around 27 per cent of ever-partnered women aged 15 to 49 have experienced physical or sexual violence from a partner at least once in their lives. Men experience violence too, and not all violence is physical — there is a short explanation of how to recognise violence that leaves no bruises in the knowledge base under Violence in a relationship.

Phase one: tension that builds

In this phase “nothing happens” yet. That is exactly why it is so hard to describe to anyone else. The partner is irritable, silent or hissing through his teeth. He criticises small things: the dinner is cold, you were on the phone too long, the children are loud. The air is thick.

A person who lives with this develops an almost supernatural sensitivity. They read the tone of a voice, a step on the stairs, the way a car door closes. They adapt: cook what the partner likes, send the children to their grandmother’s, don’t mention the bill that came in the post. All of this is an attempt to make the tension ease. Sometimes, for a while, it really works — and that strengthens the belief that the explosion can be prevented if only you try hard enough.

This is where a trap begins that I will mention more than once: if your behaviour can postpone the explosion, it starts to feel as though your behaviour also causes it. It doesn’t. What happens later is the choice of the person who uses violence.

Phase two: the explosion

The tension is released through violence. It may be a blow, shoving, strangulation, being forced into sex. It may be shouting that goes on for hours, smashing things, a threat with a knife, a locked door, a phone or money taken away. The form is not what decides whether it is violence — fear and power decide that.

Many people who have lived through this describe being as if outside themselves during the explosion: watching from a distance, not feeling pain, only realising later what had happened. This is not weakness. It is an old and very sensible response of the nervous system when it is possible neither to run nor to fight back. I have written about how such an experience stays in the body in How trauma stays written in the body.

After the explosion there is often a strange quiet. For a few hours or days it seems the storm has passed. And then begins the part that matters most for understanding the cycle.

Phase three: the honeymoon

Walker called this phase loving contrition. The partner apologises, cries, begs. He promises it will never happen again. He brings flowers, cooks dinner, is gentle with the children, goes with you to visit your mother, whom he otherwise dislikes. He often says he will get help, that he will stop drinking, that he has been under terrible stress.

And somewhere in all this the blame starts to move. “If you hadn’t provoked me like that.” “You know what I’m like when I’m tired.” “You’re the only one who understands me.” Responsibility for the explosion gets spread across stress, alcohol, work, the children — and you.

For someone who has experienced violence, this phase is deeply confusing. Because the person apologising is the one you once fell in love with. The one you miss. It seems he has come back. And it seems the explosion was the exception, not the rule.

The honeymoon is not necessarily an act. Many people who use violence truly regret it in that moment and truly believe their promises. But remorse that does not change behaviour is just another part of the circle. The tension begins to build again.

Why the cycle holds so strongly

People on the outside often ask: why doesn’t she leave? The question is understandable, but it assumes the decision is a rational calculation. It isn’t. Behind it stand fear, money, children, housing, shame — and also the bond that the cycle itself creates.

The Canadian researchers Donald Dutton and Susan Painter called this bond traumatic bonding. Their research showed that two circumstances matter: an imbalance of power between the partners, and abuse that alternates with periods of warmth. It is precisely the unpredictability — tenderness today, fear tomorrow — that binds a person more strongly than consistent coldness. The women they followed often still felt this attachment for some time after leaving.

This is not a weakness of character. It is the attachment system, which seeks comfort in danger — and finds it in the same person who caused the danger. I described a similar mechanism in Why we go back to exes, and when going back is a pattern rather than love, except that with violence much more is at stake. Returning is explored in more depth in Why victims go back to an abusive partner — and what holds them.

Over time the cycle also changes how a person sees themselves. When someone tells you for long enough that it is your fault, you begin to believe it. How this shows up in self-image is the subject of Self-image after abuse: when you believe it was your fault.

How the cycle changes over the years

Walker noticed that the circle is not always the same. For many of the women she followed, the honeymoon grew shorter over time, and sometimes disappeared almost entirely. The remorse was gone; only the tension and the explosion remained. Often the violence also became more frequent and more severe.

This, too, is part of why the relationship is so hard to see from the inside. A person remembers the beginning — the first honeymoons, when the apologies were sincere and the promises were new. That memory becomes the yardstick: “I know there’s a good man in there.” Perhaps there is. But the question is not whether there is a good person in him. The question is whether you are safe with him.

One more thing matters here. Violence does not necessarily end with separation. The period of leaving and the time after it are, for many, the most dangerous, which is why leaving needs careful thought and professional support. How to prepare is described in A safety plan for abuse: what it is and how to put one together.

The conversation that follows is composite, not a real person. But many people hear it, or something like it.

“He really has been different these last few weeks. Flowers, dinners, he was even nice to my mum.”
“And how do you feel when he comes home?”
“Fine. I mean … fine. I just still listen to how he shuts the car door.”
“What are you listening for?”
“Whether he shuts it quietly or loudly. That tells me what the evening will be like.”

Everything is in this short exchange. The honeymoon is lovely, but the body doesn’t believe it. The body is still listening to the door. This is not exaggeration — it is your nervous system, which has remembered what you may have been trying to forget.

Where the model falls short

The cycle of violence is a useful description, but it is not a law. Here are a few places where care is needed.

Not every abusive relationship is cyclical. The sociologist Michael Johnson distinguished between different kinds of violence in couples. In what he called intimate terrorism, and what Evan Stark described as coercive control, there are not necessarily marked explosions. The control is constant: who may see whom, who controls the money, who checks the phone. There is no honeymoon, because the tension never releases. If you are waiting for an “explosion” before admitting it is violence, you may never recognise it. More on this in the knowledge base under Manipulation.

Not every argument followed by an apology is part of the cycle. Couples argue, say something nasty, apologise and repair. That is part of life in a relationship, which I wrote about in Repair attempts: how to stop an argument before it gets out of hand. The difference is not whether someone apologises. The difference is whether there is fear in the relationship, whether one person controls the other, and whether one adapts in order to avoid being hurt.

The model does not predict danger. Where you are in the circle does not tell you how dangerous your situation is. Risk is assessed by people trained to do it — on the SOS helpline, in organisations that support victims, at the social work centre, by the police. If somewhere inside you sense it is worse than you admit, trust that sense and call them.

Why couples therapy is not the right route here

People living in the cycle often suggest couples therapy during the honeymoon phase. It seems logical: we have problems, let’s get help together. Yet the professional position is clear — when there is violence in a relationship, couples therapy is not an appropriate form of help.

The reasons are simple. In couples therapy both people speak openly. If one person is afraid of the other, they cannot speak openly, or they pay at home for what they said. Couples therapy also implies that both partners are responsible for the problem — whereas with violence the responsibility lies with the person who uses it. In short: safety first, then individual support for each person separately, and a specialised programme for the one who uses violence.

If you are in individual therapy and violence is happening at home, it is right to say so. A therapist is not there to judge you but to help you find a safe way forward — even if that means referring you to someone better qualified for it.

An exercise: when you hear a promise

This exercise is not a test and does not measure danger. It is a way of hearing yourself at a moment when the words around you are loud. Before you start, think about safety: if someone checks your phone or notebooks, don’t write anything down. You can do the exercise in your head.

1. Find a moment when you are alone and safe. A walk, a drive, the bathroom. A few minutes when nobody is watching you.
2. Recall the last promise. What exactly was said? Not how it was said, but what.
3. Ask yourself what has changed since then in actions. Not in tone, not in gifts — in actions. Has he sought help? Has the control lessened? Can you see the people you want to see?
4. Listen to your body. What happens inside you when you think he is about to come home? Do your shoulders relax or tense? The body often knows before the mind does.
5. Choose one person you will tell. A friend, a sister, the SOS helpline. You don’t have to decide anything. Just let someone know.

The exercise will not answer the question of what to do. But it can help keep your experience from disappearing under a layer of apologies. If you feel overwhelmed by it, that is a sign you need support — and that is completely fine.

Where to find help

Nobody has to carry this alone. In Slovenia you can turn to:

• 112 — emergency help if you are in immediate danger;
• 113 — the police;
• SOS helpline for women and children victims of violence, 080 11 55 — free conversation, information about safe houses and support;
• Klic v duševni stiski (crisis line), 01 520 99 00 — every day from 7 pm to 7 am;
• Samarijan confidential helpline, 116 123 — 24 hours a day;
• the social work centre where you live, as well as safe houses and mother-and-child shelters.

If you want to understand what violence leaves behind in body and mind, the short explanation in the knowledge base under Trauma may help. And if you recognise yourself as the one who uses violence, help is available for you too — the first step is to take responsibility without a “but”.

If you need to talk about how to set boundaries now, while you may still be deciding, that can be part of individual therapy, and I also work with English-speaking clients. But boundaries are no substitute for safety. Where there is fear, protection comes first.

What to remember

• The cycle of violence has three phases: tension, explosion and a honeymoon of remorse. It repeats, and over time the remorse often shortens.
• The honeymoon is not proof of change. Change shows in actions over time and in fear disappearing.
• The bond formed when abuse alternates with warmth is traumatic bonding — not weakness.
• Not all violence is cyclical: with coercive control, fear is constant, without marked explosions.
• Couples therapy is not appropriate where there is violence. Safety first: 080 11 55, 112, 113 (in Slovenia).